3 am
by Madelyn
Summary: C&M songfic, not what you might expect from me :-) ... read and review, please!


Hey everyone!  So, I had this idea for a songfic, and I hope that you like it.  It's sort of different, at least for me, because I'm something of a romantic in case you couldn't tell, and this isn't.  Well, it is, and it isn't.  Okay, you're getting annoyed with me now, so I'm going to stop talking.  Just read, review, and enjoy!  PLEASE PLEASE review!  Oh, and the song's an old one and everyone probably knows it.  Gotta love matchbox20 J

***maddy***

Disclaimer:  I don't own FRIENDS or anything.

_She says it's cold outside and she hands me my raincoat  
She's always worried about things like that  
She says it's all gonna end and it might as well be my fault…_

            He held his breath and squeezed his eyes closed as he tried to maneuver himself away from her.  Carefully, moving so slowly it could barely be called moving at all, he untangled his right leg from her left.   If he woke her, he'd end up spending then night.  And if he spent the night… well, no one needed that.  

            Success.  He sat at the edge of the bed and quietly tied his shoes.  His back was to her, and as she woke she made no noise or movement, but he sensed it.  

            "Chandler…" she said.  He paused for a moment, his back still turned.  

            "Hey," he said, glancing over his shoulder.

            "Hi."

            "I didn't want to wake you up," he said, finishing the lace on the second shoe.  She watched his back as the muscles tightened under his thin t-shirt while he stood.

            "You're leaving," she said.  It wasn't a question, so much as an observation.  She brought the sheet closer to her and sat up slightly.

            "Yeah," he said, then more gently, "Go back to sleep."

            "Stay." 

            He willed himself not to look at her.  He failed.  Her eyes, their blueness evident even in the darkness of the room, were almost pleading.  Her dark hair, usually perfectly in place, was mussed from sleep and… activity.  She sat with her knees tucked up underneath her chin, watching him, waiting for him to agree, and come back to bed.  

            "I don't think that's a good idea, Mon," he finally said, amazed at his power to deny this perfect woman.

            "I'm not saying it's a good idea."

            "Then what are you saying?" he asked, running his hand through his hair.

            "Stay," she repeated.  He sat next to her on the edge of the bed.

            "I can't.  We don't do that," he told her, rubbing her arm.  She nodded.

            "I know," she whispered.

            "So… I'm going to go now.  Maybe for a walk, then home."  He stood.

            "It's late," she said.

            "I know."

            She sighed.  "Well, it's cold," she said, reaching down on the floor and tossing my raincoat towards me.

            "Thanks," he told her.  Fighting the urge to kiss her goodbye with everything that he had, he walked out her bedroom door for the third time that month.

            It started, really, years ago.  They had both just broken up with nonsignificant significant others and were depressed, not at the loss of the people that they had just ended things with, but at the fact that another relationship had ended at all.  Everyone else was out.  He was feeling sorry for himself, she was crying a little, and they both got a little drunk.  One thing led to another… the next morning they agreed to forget about it and that it meant nothing.  

            But the seed had been planted.  It happened again, six months later, at his dad's funeral.  He withdrew from his friends, locked himself in the cold hotel room, all set to spend the evening following the funeral focusing on his guilt and inward contemplation.  When she knocked, he told her to go away.  When she knocked again, he told her he didn't want to talk.  When she knocked a third time, he opened the door, and let her hug him.  She kissed his tears away.  She said they didn't have to talk.

            After that, it was understood.  When one needed the other, the other was there.  It was their secret, and they kept it well.  Break-ups, birthdays, bad days at work… "I need you", and that was all that needed to be said.  

            But lately, after her break-up with Richard, it was happening more frequently.  They both knew it was wrong, and that they had taken it too far.  Three times in one month… and it wasn't just that.  They had made love once, when Monica was still dating Richard.  And for no reason.  Neither was sad.  Neither was lonely.  And that was what scared him.  

            As much as he was afraid, the fear, the guilt, and the knowledge that it would end badly could never stop him from coming to her when she needed him.  She was his best friend, but she had become so much more than that.  Her beauty, inside and outside, astounded him sometimes, and when she called in the middle of the night… he lived for those calls.      

              
_And she only sleeps when it's raining  
And she screams and her voice is straining  
She says baby   
It's 3am I must be lonely   
When she says baby   
Well I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes  
Says the rain's gonna wash away I believe it…_

            Monica rolled over and squeezed her eyes shut.  She shouldn't have called him, she knew she shouldn't have.  It had gone too far.  Ever since that night, that night that Richard never knew about… they both knew they'd have to stop.  But neither of them wanted to say it out loud, for reasons they couldn't admit to themselves.

            When she called, he came, no questions asked.  And when he asked her, she was there in a heartbeat.  She'd do anything for him.  That's how it worked, they were there for eachother.  But lately… it had only been her.  And he made it clear that he knew it was because breaking up with Richard hit her harder than anything had before.  He pretended not to let it bother him that when she called him, she was thinking about Richard.

            And the first time after the break-up, that was the case.  He had been right.  But now… Now when she called him, she wanted _him_.  And the disturbing truth about tonight:  she hadn't even been thinking about Richard.  Actually, she hadn't thought of him for a long time.  
  
_She's got a little bit of something, God it's better than nothing  
And in her color portrait world she believes that she's got it all  
She swears the moon don't hang quite as high as it used to   
And she only sleep when it's raining  
And she screams and her is straining_

            The next day he watched as she casually entered the coffee house, greeted everyone with her familiar cheerfulness.  There was no secret smile for him, no subtle hand lingering on his shoulder for longer than it should.  There never was.  The next day, it was always as if nothing had ever happened.  He had long ago mastered the art of watching her without looking like he was watching her.  He searched for meaning in every gesture, every time she tucked her hair behind her ear or crossed her legs.  If he knew what he was looking for, he may have found it.  And behind her easy laugh and sip of coffee, he had no idea she was doing the same thing.  
  
  


_  
She believes that life is made up of all that you're used to  
And the clock on the wall has been stuck at three for days, and days  
She thinks that happiness is a mat that sits on her doorway  
But outside it's stopped raining…_

            She had stopped calling.  It had been three weeks.  She had stopped because she felt him pulling away, and needed him near her again.  

            For Chandler, work had been fine that day.  No one had broken his heart, no one had died.  It wasn't Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or his birthday.  He should have been fine.  

            But he needed her.  He missed her.  Well, he saw her everyday, and they hung out and joked and talked as much as they ever did.  It wasn't enough anymore.  

            He stared at his alarm clock, telling him it was too late to call.  Telling him he shouldn't.  Telling him the reasons weren't there, and without the reasons, everything changed.  He listened to all of these points, then picked up the phone.

            She answered after two rings.  

            "Hello?" Her voice was soft and foggy from sleep.

            "Hey," he said.

            "Hi," she replied, sounding more awake.

            "I must be lonely," he told her, holding his breath for her response.  He heard her exhale, then laugh slightly.

            "I'll be right over."

_Baby, it's __3am__ I must be lonely…  
  
  
_

_Okay now do you see what I mean about it being sort of romantic but not really??? I think that's it… It seems like a stand-alone to me, but if you really want me to continue it… I guess I could consider it, because a part of me can't stand leaving it without them really together, haha.  REVIEW!!  Thanks!  Xoxo!_


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